From Where I Stand
by VocaloidSWEETIE
Summary: She didn't want to be America the Colony. She didn't want to be Amelia F. Jones, Lord Kirkland's adopted little sister. She did not want to stay in his shadow. She refused to feel for him, despite what her heart said otherwise. Nyotalia American Revolution UK x Fem!America
1. Chapter 1

Amelia's long hair swayed as the sea scented air ran its fingers through it. But the small girl didn't notice as her sky-blue eyes stuck to the port in impatience.

She sat with her brown cloth dress draped over her knees. Her white apron was over it, giving her a bit of extra warmth from the chill of the sea air. The colony plucked at the dried grass at her feet and stared out into sea until finally a speck appeared out in the ocean.

She stood up flakes of dead grass flying in the wind, and ran down the hill she sat on. Amelia raced to the port, flying past her people. The smell of fish was rooted there along with the shouting and whistles of humans.

Finally she came to the post where a certain ship had always landed. She fell against the post, panting and laughing. That certain ship came closer and closer until finally it was so close that Amelia could see the markings along the mask. She shouted and jumped up and down in bliss.

The little girl's bonnet came undone and swept through the wind's current, and disappeared onto the ship's deck. Amelia didn't even take notice of the occurrence.

Several men came from the ship, dressed in uniform, and pulled out some kind of platform with steps and tilted to the port's floor. More men came forth and stood along the edge of the large wooden platform. They saluted a single man as he gracefully came down. A tall hat sat on his blonde head and his white gloved hands held a cane. His suit held small pin shapes on his breast pocket. In his hands was some kind of white cloth. The whole sea port quieted at his arrive.

"Arthur!" Amelia screamed out and pounced at the green-eyed man. She threw her lanky arms around him as the nation of England stepped down from the platform.

England laughed as he twirled her around. "Amelia! My dear girl!" He flicked one of his wrist behind her back and the men disbanded and the port's workers went back to work with slight hesitance.

England put her down and bent down to her level. "America! You've grown so much since the last time I was here!" His eyes sparkled as he took her image in. "Here luv, I believe you dropped this? You must take care of yourself more."

America let him tie the bonnet under her chin with a pout. "But England I was too happy to notice!" She let out a giggle and twirled when he motived her too. "I've miss you England! I thought you weren't gonna come back!"

He frowned at her words. "Were not going to, America, not 'weren't gonna.'" His gloved fingers went through her long hair loving. "I will always come back to you my dear America." The little girl smiled and began to tug at his hand.

"Come on! I wanna go home with you England!" She demanded and pulled on him. He laughed and stood. Arthur looked back at a man coming off his ship.

"Have the things brought to the house." The man saluted with a nodded. "Dismissed." The man ran back to the ship.

Amelia kept pulling at Arthur, talking excitedly until England interrupted her with a weighting thought on his mind. "America you shouldn't be running around by yourself. Where's your governess?" He looked down at her as they walked the trail leading to America's home.

America shrugged, "She said I could go out and wait for you England."

Her eyes went wide realizing her mistake. "Hey England! Did you see I called you Arthur in front of everyone just like you told me too! See! I remembered!" She changed the subject, hoping to distract him from her first sentence.

England stopped them there and he bent down to look at her. "She simply let you wonder down to the port? Alone?" He eyes held a frosty coldness. "Does she let you do that a lot? Tell me the truth America."

The child bit her lip and nodded. England's face held nothing to reveal, then- "I suppose I'll have to talk with Ms. Smith." He smiled and held her hand as they continued to walk. America beamed with relief and pulled away from England as she spotted her house.

It was a rather large house England had built when he had first found her. Over 50 people worked and served the home, but only about half live there. The household was perfect for his little Amelia.

America ran to the house while fighting giggles. Arthur gave a shout for her not to run. America climbed the steps and paused for him to come up. Once he reached the top, Arthur chuckled. "I'm getting too old aren't I America?"

She shook her head. "Nope! Maybe you're just tired!" She tugged on his suit sleeve. "Hurry up England! I want us to play in my room!" At that moment a tall young women came to the door's threshold.

"Miss Amelia have you- oh!" She stopped seeing Arthur there. "Lord Kirkland!" She grabbed the side of her dark gown and curtsied. Blushing heavily, she kept her gaze to the floor.

"Ms. Smith may I have a word with you tonight?" His face held a smile but his words had bite. The women, with head still bowed, nodded. She stepped aside and they both went in with Amelia in the lead.

Several maids came to the door and took Arthur's cane, gloves, coat, and hat. One of the maids bent down to untie Amelia's white bonnet. Amelia squirmed as the maid did so. "Amelia do stand still while she does that." Arthur said. Amelia went still as stone and when the maid finished, the colony fell to the rugged floor and began to undo the straps of her shoes. The servant girls paled at the sight. Even though they let the girl do everything herself, it wasn't wise to let her do this in front of the lord… They feared what the Brit would say.

"Amelia what are you doing?"

A shiver went up the women's spines at the sound. The words were agonizing like sharpened nails being dragged across skin.

Amelia looked up and said, "Taking off my shoes." The words were said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She already had a strap off on one shoe.

"Ladies do not sit on the floor and undress themselves in the middle of the entryway." England spoke this to America, but intense green eyes silently stared at each of the women. "You," he threw a hand at the closest women and she flinched, "take her to her room and change her into something less resembling a peasant girl's outwear."

"'S alright Eng- I mean Arthur! I can-"

"Now." Arthur spoke to the unmoving maid.

The women jerked her head, hoping to make it look something like a nod, and pulled the small girl to her feet. She silently raced them up the main stairway. America looked back with large eyes. But England had already turned his back to her.

Once they disappeared, Arthur let out a heavy sigh. "All of you disappoint me terribly." The maids were statues in a garden. England walked slowly through the line of 6 women. "Mrs. Kingly, if my memory serves me right, I left you in charge of only running the house smoothly. For what I have seen, this has not happened. See me tonight along with Ms. Smith." The middle-age women gave a shaky nod.

"Leave me." England said and they all scattered like leaves in the wind.

England walked towards the parlor where two butlers let him in. His eyes roamed the room for a moment. A large window was the room's best feature. From there he could easily see the sea and port-life. It truly was a beautiful view. Tall, almost wheat-like grass danced in sync as the wind moved them, the sun beyond the sea was tinted pink, orange, and every color in between. The country walked around the couches and ran a hand over a large cherry wood cabinet.

He stopped in front of the fireplace, looking at a self-portrait of himself and America. She was even smaller than she was now, barely discovered. The babe still wore that white smock and red ribbon. They were smiling... Rare in a portrait.

"I want brandy." He announced to the room, and in less than a second, a butler came in holding a silver platter in hand. He held a short glass and a bottle of brandy on the tray. The glass was already less than half filled. Arthur took it and the servant bowed before moved away

Upstairs Amelia was frowning as her maid dressed her into a horribly tight and uncomfortable gown. "April, I don't understand why I have to wear this. Plus I can dress myself!" April clicked her tongue and motioned her to sit at her dresser seat.

"I know dear, but Lord Kirkland demanded it n' so it must be done. 'Sides being the master of the house, e's a titled man who must be paid mind too." She pulled out a brush from the drawer and tried to do something with her long honey colored hair. "Mayb' if er' lucky enough Miss, er'll marry er'self a gent with money and not 'ave to worry 'bout takin' orders from a rich Brit!"

But Amelia's mind was on another topic. Her thoughts had stayed on how England had ordered them around. "In England, do a lot of people treat others... unfairly?" The child chose that last word carefully. She looked up at her maid silently.

April pondered slowly. She went to the girl's feet and began to put on a new pair of slippers on her.

"'Ell I suppose 'o... Just another reason why America is just amazin'! Here, many people can escape the things tha' they feared. Here, there's a chance of bein' fair! And that chance is what a lot of people need."

Amelia stared into her lap. The maid's words stuck in her head. "Done! Let's get you to Lord Kirkland now shall we?" Amelia stood up and her hand went to tug at the scratchy fabric around her neck. April opened her mouth to object to this, but Amelia started out towards the door.

The little girl raced down the stairs and stopped short of the closed parlor doors. Amelia smiled to herself for remembering the manners that had been nailed into her brain. A lady does not rush into a room. She pushed her bangs from her face and felt that April had done a simple braid. It was very similar to the ones she would wear when she would go out and play. A secret meaning from Arthur. Amelia wasn't sure she liked that.

Before the butlers opened the doors, Amelia took a breath. She held her head high and tried desperately to look graceful walking into the room.

England turned and watched the colony walk in with a stiffened back. He smiled and put down the glass. "Amelia, child, you look beautiful." He watched as her blue eyes light up. She wore a blue, half silk, half cloth gown, with white lace on the bottom and the ends of the sleeves. He could see white slippers peering out every time she took a step.

"Relax some poppet, it's just big brother." He jested at her stiffness.

He took her hand and guided her to the couch. "Now poppet I brought back some things for you."

America gasped at this. "England did you really?"

"Would I lie to you poppet?" He called out something and two men came in, each holding a handle of a large trunk. After they left, England allowed her to look at the new things.

Inside, a number of new dolls and wooden animals were laid carefully. A large wooden doll house was there also, completing the small unit.

"There's also a tea set, beautifully hand painted, and tea I was given to by China. And in another trunk I brought more dresses, slippers, and all the things a girl your age would want. Oh, and of course, English, math, and history books for you to study. Must not get behind on your studies poppet." Arthur said, looking down at the opened trunk.

Amelia traced a gentle finger over a doll's porcelain face. Its glass eyes were a pretty shade of green. "Like your eyes..." She whispered. Amelia suddenly looked up at England. "Who's China?"

England took a step back and frowned at her unexpected question. "A country in eastern Asia, Amelia." He said watching her.

"Will I get to meet China one day?" Arthur's frown deepened. He forced a tight smile and took his glass of brandy to the couch. There he finished it, throwing it back into his mouth.

"Who would want to meet that man? He believes he knows everything and will forever know everything. I myself wished I hadn't met him."

He glanced at Amelia. "He's mean then?" His smile began genuine.

"Very much so. Why would you want to meet someone like that? Come here poppet," he patted his lap, "sit with me."

Amelia stood, clutching her doll in hand, and climbed onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around her slim waist. "Just stay with brother alright?" He closed his eyes and rested his head on her shoulder.

Amelia smiled and slightly turned her head to him. "England I love you." His eyes fluttered opened. His lips tenderly touched her neck, giving her a chaste kiss.

"I love you America. Never leave me." The seriousness dripped off the words.

Amelia giggled at the tickling feeling on her neck. "I won't! I promise!" They stayed like that for a moment until Amelia said, "England... Are you gonna leave?"

Arthur, who decided not to correct her, said, "Not for while this time... Maybe I'll stay a year or even two poppet."

The little girl gasped loudly. "Last time you were here, you were only here for six month!" Arthur smiled. He moved his head to rest his chin on her shoulder.

"I know poppet... I know...and I want to spend as much time I can with you."

She giggled again and leaned against him. "I really love you England." She whispered.

"I love you America."

Only two months later, Amelia sobbed heavily against Arthur's uniformed chest. "Y-you li-lied!" She weakly threw her small fists at him. "You're a-a li-liar!" She cried out at him. Her people at the port passed by, giving pity looks at the crying child.

Arthur hugged her tightly. "I'm know poppet, I know. I give my deepest apologizes about that- this. My king needs me and I cannot-" America pulled away.

"I thought you said you love me! Why are you leaving me?!" She demanded.

England placed a hand on her tear stained cheek. "I do love you America. I will come back. Each and every single time I will. I will come back to you." He whispered intensely. America stared, and more tears came down as she took a deep breath through her sobs. In an instant she tightly wrapped her arms around him.

"Take me with you..." It came out filled with desperation.

"Oh poppet... I wish I could but I can't. You're too young..." This only made her sob harder. "I will write to you every chance I get, just until we see each other again. It will help you too with your writing. It'll be perfect." He forced a laugh.

"I don't want letters, I want you!" She screamed on his shoulder.

"Milord," the captain came up to them, "We're ready to set sail-"

England looked up sharply, "I'll bloody tell you when we set sail!" He hissed at the old man. The captain nodded, bowed, and hurried back.

They held each other bit longer until England stood up. "No!" Amelia screamed but at Arthur's nod, her new governess, took ahold of the colony with an iron grip that was strong enough to even hold back America for a moment.

Arthur boarded the ship and forced himself not to look back, for fear of looking in her eyes... and staying.

"No! Let me go! Arthur!" She screamed. The ship set sail and in a few short minutes, they were beyond her reach. America turned to her governess and bit down on her hand. With a loud scream, Amelia was released.

The small girl ran to the end of the dock. Tears trailed down her face as she panted heavily. "Arthur,I'll wait for you to come back!" She cried out into sea.

America closed her eyes and saw England's face. For some sick, sad reason she knew she wouldn't see him for a long, long time.

And she was right.

* * *

Author's Note: First Hetalia story on ! Super happy! This has been posted on Deviantart, but this a is edited, and if i do say so myself, better veriosn. Reviews, favorites, and follows make my day!


	2. Chapter 2

May, 1774

All Amelia could smell was cow shit.

"Hurry up! Keep running John!" She yelled behind her shoulder with a crazed laugh. Amelia held tight to the pouch of gold coins.

Curses, shouts, whistles, cheers, and laughter was the symphony of the market place. It was cramped and crowed, loud and strong. It was home.

John, a boy almost seventeen years of age, ran as fast as the wind. Behind him were several British soldiers dress in their signature red. "Stop! Thief!" Amelia heard a let out a pig-like snort. The sound of her boots stomping on the ground was one of the prime sounds ringing in her ears. The others were the soldiers' cries, John's screams, and her own heavy pants.

"Stop, thief!" Amelia yelled out with laughter as she tried to copy their accent with horrible success.

She jumped over a cart filled with apples. John, behind her, was smart, and tipped the cart over. Red apples spilled onto the floor and one of the soldiers tripped over them. Unfortunately for the others, they fell over their fallen comrade, allowing Amelia and John to escape.

The teens turned a corner and Amelia pulled him into a street alley. She laughed loudly and pushed the pouch into his chest. "For your family John." She smiled as his fingers took the leather bag.

John, panting and sweat dripping down his face, frowned. "Who are you boy? I appreciate the money and all but here I was mindin' my own business and bam!" Amelia snickered at that and reached up a hand to scratch her covered head. "A random boy just grabs me and tells me to run!" She growled at the itch under her cap. She had taken a bath only a couple of weeks ago! Why was her head so itchy? "I look around and I see them Redcoats comin' after me! What the hell do you-" He suddenly stopped, Amelia had pulled off her cap. She had stuffed her short locks into it, and with it off, they tumbled down. She had cut her hair a long time ago, so all it fell to was only about an inch or two above her shoulders.

She scratched at her head like a dog with fleas. The colony let out a small content moan.

"Girl. You're a g-girl." He stepped back checking out her outfit. She wore brown trousers that seemed to have dirt stains and a worn white shirt with a smudged brown vest. "You're flat as the floorboards." Her hand shot out and took ahold of his head of hair.

"That's not the way to talk to a girl, John." She tossed his head away with an eye roll.

"_Oui_, I agree to that!" A chuckle followed and Amelia wiped her head around to see a man coming out from the shadows. His long blonde hair was tied back in a flashy blue bow. The moonlight made strong shadows dance across his face.

"Geez Francis, couldn't help the dramatics?" Amelia mumbled.

He laughed. "You know me too well _mon ami_!" He walked to the boy and gave a small flick of his hand to him. "Off with you now. She's older than your grandmother." Amelia protested in the background.

America watched while John's face turned into a look of confusion as he turned, leaving with the money. America eyed the Frenchman as he watched the boy leave with a smile. Finally he turned to her with grin.

"Playing Robin Hood now sweet?" America shrugged and turned away. Out the corner of her eye, she could see France's eyes watched her movements carefully. "...And cross dressing too? I wonder how mother England would react to see his little girl dressed like a street urchin. But I must say I have always liked the short hair."

America sighed, her back to him. "What do you want France?" She fingered at the wall of a building. Her short nails failed to protect the flesh of her finger, and she scarped the skin there. She felt the sting but kept a neutral expression.

"Can't I visit my little America?"

"Never done much of that before..." She muttered.

France strolled slowly to her, his heels clicking as he did so. It was a loud noise echoing in her ears. Then before her eyes a rose blossomed, in the background, she distantly saw France's snake smile. America blinked and took ahold of the sudden flower. "Can't help the dramatics can you?" She repeated.

"No!" He laughed, "I cannot." France walked into front of her, watching with a keen eye. "I've heard about the problems you've been having with the English tart." America frowned. "When I came, I had hoped to see your people in... Higher spirits." He chuckled softly. "I mean... Those poor men in Boston of course. It must still sting, after all, it was only, what, four years ago?" At her deepening frown, America knew she answered his question.

She clutched her hands, teeth biting down on her bottom lip. How dare he even mention that massacre to her. She growled deep in her throat.

"The little stunt you pulled was hilarious too you know, but how unfortunate that England had to force those appalling acts on you… The Intolerable Acts wasn't it? It is clearly punishment."

Memories of letters came to her mind and it was not difficult to let out a flow of curse words from her mouth.

France gave her an amused look. She felt that gaze throw oil to the growing fire in her blood. "You have grown so _very _much Amelia. I only just saw you last year, and you appear to have aged much since." The man took a step closer, and the colony could smell the sweet wine on his breath. "Let me guess..." He muttered with a laugh and a hand stoking the thick stumble on his chin. "You were about 15 last year, and now, ah, 17." America stiffened at his discovery, taking a step away. She forced her eyes from him, to a pile of rotten vegetables, which was now home to several alley rats.

"Tell me _mon ami_," His voice dropped to a low whispered. "How does it feel to be so neatly under his thumb?"

She turned around to face the bearded man. Her face was dead set in an intense look. The thorns of the rose in her gasp cut into her palms as she tightened her fist. "That lying ass," she spoke with disgust, "Whatever that bastard has said is a damned lie! He has no right over me anymore yet he orders me around like he's my like my owner! Where the hell does he get that right? Tell me! How? He's taxes me to death and expects me to fall at his feet like a whore?! His Redcoats have shamed, humiliated, and slaughtered my people! All under his orders no doubt! Him and that fat king of his!" She slammed her fist on the brick wall, her blues eyes illumined in the nightlight. The warm blood pooled in her hand. "I'd rather die than let him have this land and its people!"

America forced herself to ignore England's image in her mind. That man from her childhood was a killer. She had to forget about the England who was so dear to her. The England who she loved.

And for some estranged reason, that thought stung her.

The French nation let out a cackle, then he started to laugh so hard he bent over, clutching his middle. Gasping, he looked up at her. She fixed him a livid glare. He resisted the urge to continue laughing. "Hey! Stop laughing at me France!" America snapped with animosity in her voice.

France raised his hands in defeat, but his shoulders still trembled with giggles. "Alright _mon ami_! It is just that I was reminded of your sister. She was so sure you would have forgiven England." He smiled at her.

America's narrowed followed by her head cocking to the side at the mention of Madeline. "You saw Canada?" France nodded as he pushed unseen dirt from under a nail. "I had to leave earlier than excepted since she knew England was coming." He smiled forcefully. "_Mon petit_ didn't want us to start a fight." His eyes drafted away.

America felt her stomach drop and she hated it. "He- he went to her first?"

"_Oui_."

She looked away, not knowing why such an ache had stabbed her heart. America swallowed and the ache begun to turn into a penetrating throbbing. It had been almost a decade and he went to her sister first. It doesn't make any sense, the pain in her heart. After all the difficulties he's put her through, it didn't makes any sense at all.

The country in front of her smirked and leaned in to pluck the rose from her palm. America blinked and merely watched him do it.

The blood colored his hand as he placed the tainted flower in her other hand. "The only reason why I am here today is because that he hates it when I come over to see you." America looked at him with large blue eyes.

This man was the only family she'd seen in the past 11 years. He had always tried to come and talk to her and make her smile and- "What do you want?" She said as evenly as she could. She concentrated on his face and nothing else. America felt him pull away with that snake like smile.

"Why do you think I want something _mon ami_?" He spoke with confidence yet his eyes narrowed. America unconsciously placed a silk petal between her fingers. She practically felt it wilt under them.

"They always do."

Her fingers torn at the stained red rose and finally pulled her eyes away from him. She kept her head bowed to the rose as she repeated the process.

Francetsked at her. "Such a shame…" He murmured loud enough for her to hear. His own blue eyes watched another petal fall victim to her fingers.

"What?" America asked, annoyed.

The Frenchman plucked the rose out of her hands with surprising ease. He looked at it as he twirled it around by the bottom stem. "It was from England's garden." He twirled it faster, and America watched, suddenly incredibly anxious for it to be in her hands again. She blinked and reached for it.

Suddenly she felt wet droplets on her face. She touched her face and pulled her hand to her eyes; smears of blood. "Oops." France snickered.

America felt herself fume from the outside and stomped on his polished shoe. Yet, he made no move that it had hurt him. The girl lunged for the stained rose in his hand. She held it tight to her chest, air escaped her lungs in her desperation to have the rose returned. Amelia glowered at him, suddenly realizing what had happened, what he had been trying to find out.

"You're still in love with him aren't you America?"

Red blotches blossomed on her face. She felt it grow from her neck to her ears, and in a second, her whole being was painted crimson. America tumbled back like he had slapped her. in a way he had.

"H-how can you even think that?! After everything he's put me through-" Her voice shook and lost its strength.

"You hold grudges girl. Everything that man has done to you is nothing compared what he has done to others," he tilted his head, the country's locks hit his shoulder, "He's only treating you like what you are: a colony."

America's hand leaned on the building. His words were the truths no was telling her and they _burned_.

"You still love him. Perhaps half of your hatred towards him to due to the fact that he is abusing your people...but what about the other half?" France stepped closer to her and all she could do was stand frozen. Something inside of her demanded that she stay and hear his words, his truths.

He whispered closely in her ear, "Maybe you hate that he keeping playing big brother when you crave something more… intimate."

In a flash, her arms reached out and shoved him away. The rose now hung limp in her shaking hands. "Enough of your words France! Enough!"

The colony wiped her distressed expression with her hands, but the second it rubbed away some nerves, she realized she smeared more blood on her face. "Damn it!" She closed her eyes, and threw the rose at him in loathing. Blood from the rose hit him and dirtied his clothing.

"Watch it!" He cried, "Do you realize how much this garment cost me?" He pulled out a handkerchief and began to gently pat it.

"I don't need him! I don't need him at all!" She turned away and began to tread out the alleyway.

"I don't need to hear any of the shit that comes out of your mouth!" She spat. America wanted to walk away from him forever, however, before she could, the colony heard words that forced her to stare at reality.

"You have grown stronger, but against him, will it count in the end?"

Those weren't only his truths, they were her's as well.

When America arrived at her house, it was in a mix of panic and steaming in frustration. She ran up the stairs and slammed open her bedroom door. With equal strong, she slammed it shut, distantly she hear the wood crack.

Amelia screamed, turned to her bed, and slammed her foot on the wooden bedpost. The beam broke with a brash noise. She threw her face to her hands in dread.

"Why do I…?"

A soft knock came at the door and whoever it was let themselves in. "Miss Jones?" A tiny voice said. Without looking up, Amelia could imagine Mary, the small servant girl, timidly stepping into her room. "Miss?"

Amelia's head snapped up, her enormous blue eyes glowed in the moon's light from her opened window.

"A-a letter came for you Miss Jones..." The brunette said startled.

Amelia held out her hand silently. The blood had dried and it was simply rubbed on her arms and hands, a grim reminder of the night. The maid jumped, she quickly left the closed letter in Amelia's opened palm and rushed out.

She glared at the letter, wondering what the new comeback from their previous argument would be.

No. No she doesn't want to be America the Colony. She didn't want to be Amelia F. Jones, Lord Kirkland's adopted little sister. She did not want to be in his shadow. She refused to feel for him. America was tired of him taxing and forcing his hordes of soldiers on her people. Amelia was tired of being tried like a simpleton. She was tired of him not seeing who she really was.

She sat up, watching her shadow move on the far wall. Enough. She had to leave. Even if wasn't for long, she had to get away. England wouldn't come. "He's a liar." Amelia reminded herself once again.

The girl grabbed a cowhide bag that hung from her bedpost and walked to her closet. She pulled out her 'peasant wear' as Arthur would have called it. Men's trousers and shirts that was all she would need for this trip. She pulled out a small box from her dresser and shoved it roughly into her bag along with the newest letter.

Amelia closed the bedroom door behind her and took one slow step at a time. Once Amelia was outside, she began to walk towards the empty fields that seemed to run forever.


	3. Chapter 3

She had actually forgotten how many days she was out here. America was never one to keep tab on days and time. It was one of many things England chastised her for.

Amelia dropped the long stick she had been using for a cane and rub at the blisters on her palms. She winced as she lightly touched a sore. The young women kicked the stick over to a large rock. She made herself comfortable on it and sulked in the quietness.

The place she decided to rest at was where a grassy field met the beginnings of a green forest. The start of a creek was just a few feet from where she sat. Amelia stared at the shallow water with apprehension about the events leading up to her little getaway.

"Stupid France." She picked up a pebble near her feet and tossed it in the waterbed. It fell in with a loud _thud _and small splash.

She didn't love him. She, Amelia F. Jones, certainly did not love that- that tyrant! That oppressor and resenter (it wasn't a word, but it sounded right to her ears) of freedom and rights of men and women! Amelia's stare turned into a glared. She started to gently rub at her aching hand as she gave the subject more thought. She hated England. America loathed him and everything he represented.

On that fateful day in March 1770, America was reminded that she was indeed, nothing more than a feeble colony. Five Americans died in the streets of Boston, shoot down like damned dogs by Redcoats.

Everything she had done was to get back at him for the hell he had put her people through. The Quartering Act and the Stamps Act as well, she needed to give hope to those without it within her land. Then it started to feel like a game. A thing to shove in England's face about. Amelia had laughed with the rest of the men, and even helped smear on paint and stick feathers in people's hair. She jeered and felt power race in her veins when she dumped the boxes of tea into the harbor. The colony wasn't so helpless after all, and England was furious when it was clear that Amelia wasn't going to play the part of weak obedient sister.

She kept a news clipping in a book under her bed. The Boston Massacre, Amelia sneered at the name. The name was perfect to increase anti-British feelings in the 13 colonies, Samuel was smart like. "Cunning old man."

A lot of people like him had started to show up and come to her. They knew who she was and usually wanted to discuss with her about the ongoing frustrations England was putting them all through. Amelia had scuffed with both Samuel and Abby about him. One things these people had in common was a ridiculously…incredible idea… One that no simple colony should think.

She sighed and loosened the button on her shirt.

They never met at her house though. America would sneak out, usually in the dead of night, to meet in some secret room of a tavern. She knew that England his men stationed around her place. So bringing people like the Adams wasn't much of a good idea. Arthur had always been possessive over his colonies, but her even more so.

America ran her hands through her short hair, then touched her lips at a distant memory. It came back to her so clearly, that she could think it had been only yesterday, not 14 years ago that it had happened. This taunting memory was one that she always tried to shove at the back of her mind. Now wasn't any different. She pulled it back into her head.

"Darn it." She muttered, swallowing thickly, and looked up at the sky. It was about an hour or two until the sun would set.

Amelia stretched her arms and again glanced up at the sky. "It must be dark where Madeline lives…" The words left her without much thought.

_Canada is the perfect image of how a colony should be. _

England had the nerve to write that in one of his letters. She grinned as she remembered what she had replied back to the man.

_Why dontcha go 'n bother her ass then. _

England had ceased his writings for a long time, almost two months, and it gave her a deep pleasure knowing she could easily get under his skin. She wanted to crawl under it and make him bleed from the inside. But along with the boost to her ego, it had also stung. She had actually missed-

Amelia raised from her spot on the rock and peeled off her shirt and trousers. She stood in her undergarments (a recently loosened corset, and damn if she cared if it wasn't tight enough, it was a miracle she actually had forgotten to remove the torture device) and leaned on the rock to pull off her mud covered boots.

As soon as her feet touched the dirt ground, Amelia smiled fondly. The feeling reminded her of the time before England and all the other countries. She was still undiscovered and alone. No one lived on her land expect the Native Americans and the wildlife. That was a quiet and far away time…

American stomped to the creek and stepped in with an exhale. The water was refreshing on her sore feet. One day, she will make all the other countries just leave her alone in her bliss. If only it would be for a little while. Yet, she often wondered why many countries just loved to go somewhere to look just for the heck of it. Taking things most often.

But no one ever saw her going up to people and start groping around for things. She shuttered as she remember the one time she met Spain. France had declared that she would met him and brought him to her within the day. The country didn't grope her per say, but he was awfully hands-y when he hugged her. Amelia smacked him, but all he had to say was that she reminded him of one of his own colonies. Italy or Roma or something.

She scooped up some water to splash in her face, silently thanking God that she wasn't around many countries. What a nightmare that would be. Amelia sat down into the water and bowed her head to watch the water mover over her lap. It was a nice clear color, she could easily see the stones under her legs. She started to lay in it in an effort to feel more relaxed.

It worked.

Almost immediately, the calming sensation came over her and she stared up at the blue sky. She could feel a strand of hair hitting her cheek but she let it stay there.

America even almost forgot about England for the moment. Almost.

America vaguely wondered how he would look like. It had been decades since the last time she saw him. The painting over the fire place did not count, nor did the last time he came unannounced. Amelia lifted up a hand and watched the water slip off in round beads. The man had been here for only three days before departing almost immediately. But not before leaving a a memory that made Amelia question things… Not only about their relationship as America and England, but as Amelia and Arthur as well.

The man had also put in that first infuriating act, and with the Stamp Act came the first signs of revolt in her homeland.

Closing her first and bringing it down on the surface of the water, Amelia sat up, all traces of relaxation having evaporated.

"For a man I hate, I do think about him a lot." She remarked to herself with a thin lipped smile. She pushed back her hair and stood. The droplets rolled off the surface of her skin as she lingered in the slowly fading sunlight to dry off.

America stopped when she saw the bundles of teepees in the large clearing. The sun was quickly setting behind her and she felt a small joy at knowing she made it to this place on time.

When someone spotted her in the distance, she gripped the stick in the hand and lifted the other in peaceful greeting. Soon enough, two men on horseback came to meet her half way, and with relief, America thanked one of the Natives when he offered her the horse.

America draped her bag over her shoulders as she lifted herself onto the animal. She trotted the horse to the direction of the teepees. Several women and children peered out of their homes curiosity as she arrived and got off the horse. She didn't recognize many faces.

It had been a while since America had visited this tribe. Maybe the year had been… 1680? America smiled mildly at a group of staring men. Either way, she hoped to spot someone who might know who she was.

She paused in front of cluster of older humans around a large bonfire. Amelia looked at them as they looked at her; with interest. No… she didn't recognize anyone… Maybe she should have gone to a different tribe.

However, at that moment, one of them spoke. Everything had gone quiet as the rest of the place had gone mute to hear her reply. America drew her brows together in confusion. What did she say? It's been a while since I've spoken most Native languages.

Of course no one offered an explanation, so America motioned the elder to repeat what she had said (America hoped the gesture ask that kindly of her.)

And so when the words were repeated, Amelia leaned in and took in each syllable with great care.

"I know how you are, One With The Land." Those extra words were added in to the end. Those verses made people look in her direction in mild surprise. America opened her mouth… Oh! That was the name they gave me last time!

"It has been many years since I last saw you here, I was but a young child when you came here last."She went on to say.

America listened and nodded her head at the old women's words. She cleared her throat and said, "It has been many years, and I apologize for not visiting my old friends."

A man standing behind the old women leaned down to her ear and whispered something. The women laughed, and the man leaned back, grim faced. The shadow the fire casted intensified the glare he was pinning on her, but America made sure to keep on her mild face. "What brings you here?"

"I wish to stay here with the tribe for some days. Many things have happened in the last several years and now I must think on how I resolve it…"America hesitated for the next part, "Life has changed for all of us I suppose, and I'm afraid it will continue to shift in that direction with the coming future."

The elder watched her with a critical eye and when the last word left her mouth, the women nodded. "Stay as long as you like. I am Dream Listener, come to me if you need anything."

America gave her a deep nod and looked around, where slowly, the tribe started to pull away from the gathering at the fire.

So that was it_. _It sure wasn't the worst chat she had with someone. America was pretty sure that she has had worse conversations with Canada.

She turned away as she pulled back the hair from her eyes. Amelia gazed up at the night sky for the longest time with a deep longing. It had been on a night such as this that England first showed her the stars. Even though it had been a centuries since, she wondered, England, do you remember? She felt the blood leave from her face at the thought,then the anger arrived.

England doesn't deserve anything from me.

She noticed a girl motioning her over to a teepee. America followed her inside without a word. When will she stop dreaming like a girl? She need to become someone that would fight for the rights that should have been given to her from the start. She would play both peacemaker and warrior in the upcoming events.

To this she swore.

"Please make yourself at home One With The Land, I am Weeping Winds, and I am here to help you while you are here." Amelia blinked at the girl's grand welcome in a bit of surprise. Weeping Winds had snatched her from her serious thoughts and pushed her into the world of reality.

"Gee thanks, um, Weeping Winds was it? Sounds kinda mature for a little thing like you doncha think?" Amelia blurted without thought. Her blue orbs were taking in her new surrounding when she realized how the sentence sounded. Amelia snapped her gaze to the girl. **"**I'm sure you're plenty mature in that category it's just…" She went on blabbing with no end in sight.

Weeping Winds laughed and sat down on the carpet material that made up the floor of the teepee. Amelia shyly sat down, still feeling the embarrassment of her pervious statement.

As she placed her hands upon the carpet, the colony smiled a bit at the sensation. It was fur. Amelia's meek smile turned into a toothy grin.

She laid down on it, stretching her arms over her head and rubbing her body against it like a cat against one's leg. "So soft…" She muttered to herself, eyes closed to the new world she entered.

It almost felt like a dream. Before England had restarted fighting against France, they all had stayed together for a bit. Canada and she were tiny things, only several years since their discovery, and it had been such a blissful, ignorant time.

England and France had a house built up in what was to become Connecticut, and within those walls held one of America's most dear memories. England had an enormous study inside where elegant furs had been thrown stylishly over the floors. An expense gift from one of England's allies at the time for sure, and America would spend hours laying on those furs, waiting for when England would finish tedious letters and papers to come and pick her up in his arms and just spin her around, wrapped in his love…

Then came the French and Indiana War where he ordered the house to be destroyed. "We don't need anything of the frog here with you luv." England explained to her shortly through a letter before moving on to the way he wanted her hair to be fashioned.

It only took a moment for Amelia to awake from that dream-like state. She sat up in a huff and stared at her legs. Get a grip America, remember, warrior and peacemaker. America pushed back her hair, feeling a suddenly irritation with it.

"One With The Land..." At the sound of the soft voice, Amelia remembered her situation. She turned her head at the Native, who held some kind of brush and ribbon in hand. "If I may help you with your…" Weeping Winds motioned to the rat's nest that was currently her hair.

"Oh, yeah sure." Amelia said and sat up straight for the other to get started on her work.

There was a moment of a quick silence until Weeping Winds asked her what she had been thinking of. Amelia felt her face flush with heat and stammered out a quick summary of her memory.

The other girl was again quiet when America was done with her story**. **"This man, he is close to your heart is he not?" She asked, continuing to brush out the thick knots in her hair.

"Once." She wasn't quite yet ready to bare her heart and soul, especially since Amelia herself didn't know what was there.

"One mustn't trust the word once." Weeping Winds said softly and replaced the brush in hand for the green ribbon in Amelia's lap. Amelia stared as the ribbon pasted her and disappeared from view.

When Weeping Winds announced her task done, Amelia's hand went to her hair. It was just her short hair pulled back with the ribbon, a style not unlike Francis' and most of the men of the age. Her hostess most've seen the look on her face for she explained that Amelia's hair was too short to braid, and so she had to turn to an easier method.

Amelia grinned brightly and made quick to thank her. Her fingers fingered the soft silkiness of the ribbon in her hair when she suddenly thought of something.

"Did you trade for this ribbon?" Amelia felt guilt dripped into her being at the idea she was taking up more than just a place to live.

Weeping Winds reassured her that her people had only traded some furs and meat for many things from a pair of white men a couple of days ago. **"**We were hesitant to trade with this pair, for one of them had eyes the color of blood with hair and skin the shade of the moon. Many of the elders thought he was a demon, but others thought he was a shape shifter from the forest come to test us." She shrugged. **"**In the end, they had more things in their favor and we traded."

A shiver ran up her spine, goose bumps landed on her arms, and Amelia's eyes grew with the spooky tale her companion spoke of. She rubbed the chill bumps on her arms and tried to shake the thoughts of demons and shape shifters from her mind.

"I- I think I'll go to sl-sleep n-now Weeping Winds." She swallowed and moved to an empty spot in the corner. Her friend only smiled, wishing Amelia a good night.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Ok last chapter i had the language the Native talk in bold but i changed it to underlined. Because i thought it would be easier on the eyes.

MANY THANKS TO THE FAVORITES, FOLLOWS, AND ALL THAT LOVE! _KISS!_

The following morning, the loud tweeting of birds and the stomping of people woke Amelia from her sound slumber. Her eyelids fluttered from the soft light the fabric of the tepee managed to allow in. With a heavy unlady-like grunt, she propped herself up onto her elbows before looking around wearily.

The small space was warm and cozy to boot, and yet, even with all the melodrama happening at her house, that place felt like her true home.

Amelia reached up a hand to rake through her tussled locks. "Weird." She whispered out in a husky morning tone. Suddenly there was a shadow at the opening of the tepee. "One With The Land, can I come in?" At the sound of the familiar polite voice, Amelia sat up, choking out a reply of come in.

Weeping Winds peered inside with her signature smile. "Have a good sleep my friend?" She asked brightly and walked in to pick up some things from a woven bin Amelia had not known was there.

"Yes, thank you."

"I'm glad to hear. When you get ready, please come and find me."

She found herself nodding, and just as the other was about to depart, Amelia stopped her. "Yes?" Weeping Winds gave her a tilt of her head, and Amelia opened her mouth but she couldn't make words appear. Amelia stared at the girl and was surprised that she was actually just now getting a good look at her.

She was a pretty thing, maybe a bit taller than herself, with a thick black braid falling almost to the waist. There was a necklace of several feathers, stones, and… Amelia squinted slightly, animal bone…? Nonetheless, it only drew attention to the beautiful dress that was probably made from animal skins.

"One With The Land?"

Amelia blinked rather sheepishly, she shook her head with more motion that was necessary, "Um," say something that doesn't sound daft prat, "do ya mind if I call you Windy? It's just that Weeping Winds is kinda of a mouthful and I-" Amelia hastily swallowed the lump in her throat and followed by ignoring the blood filling her cheeks.

But to her surprise, Weeping Winds only let out a rush of laughter with a glint of- amusement? -in her deep brown eyes. She held the object she had picked up to her chest and finished up her laughter.

"I wouldn't mind." She replied with that same glint focused so clearly in her gaze. With that, the girl turned away and slipped out of the tepee murmuring "A mouthful" with a giggle.

After she was gone, Amelia sat on the ground with a look resembling a new born chick, confused and lost.

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, unsure what to do, or rather, what to start with first. Amelia supposed she could just wear the same clothes from yesterday, but then would that seem rude?

So with that though in mind, Amelia crawled over to her cowhide bag to pull out a new set of trousers and shirt. As the colony located her bag, there she paused, thinking over something. Did she have to change? Maybe the Natives wouldn't notice. She unknowing pulled at the collar of the shirt she wore and pulled it to her nose to test, and with the musk of it came a wrinkle to her nose.

Definitely going to change that.

Her hands dove into the bag, starting their journey to discover a new pair of clothes for the day. She'll most likely have to find a way to wash the dirtier ones somehow. Despite how many people didn't find the value in being clean, England had branded that into her mind at a tender age, and so, she was one of few who took a bath every other week, no matter how much of a pain it was, and have her usual clothes (the trousers and shirt, not to mention her underthings) washed clean often.

"Ah ha!" She cheered at pulling out an outfit… along with everything else that she throw in. It appeared that her things had formed into a ball of mass inside her bag.

At once, with a growling grumble, she went to work shoving back everything until she came to the small wooden box and the newly wrinkled letter. What was she thinking in bring that here? She stared at the things with a weak glare.

Yes, well, it was now quite obvious that she hadn't been in clear thoughts at the moment.

Amelia sighed, placing a hand to the fur beneath her. For a moment, she considered opening the letter, mostly to have a reason to complain to herself about England. The last thing she had sent to the man had been about his constant unwillingness to allow her to do anything.

Thinking back on it, it did sound childish, but she had enough of his own whining. Don't do this. Listen to me. How many times to I have to tell you girl? Do not provoke me. Without me, you would be nothing but a savage.

Amelia stuffed the wrinkled letter back into the depths of her bag. That last one had stung some, especially since it had some after his last short visit… She bit on the soft inside of her cheek before stripping and quickly changing. Her hand removed the ribbon from its place. She tried to retie it to give her scuffled hair some improvement.

She buttoned up the shirt before quickly moving to opening on the teepee to search for her black leather boots. A gift from Francis after the war a couple years back. She made quick to lace them up and emerged from her new found home to see the tribe up and at work.

A child ran past her legs with a basket of seeds, and when she looked up, she spotted several other tepees across from her view. She wouldn't say they were lined up, they were certainly in some sort of pattern, but what exactly it was, she didn't know.

Amelia wondered if this is what it was normally like for the tribe in the mornings. She stood there awkwardly for moment, pondering where she should go to find Windy. With a shrug of a shoulder, she made up her mind and started off in a random direction. Everything looked completely different from last night…

_Maybe because it had been night Amelia_. She rolled her blues eyes at herself.

The colony kept glancing this way and that for her friend or a familiar face, but again, it had been dark last night. She paused, hesitated, at a pair of women skinning an animal. Its hind legs were tied up and blood rolled off in crimson beads to a pool on the grass.

Her lips pressed together then she forced her head away from the sight. Again, her legs started moving in a direction, but she just wanted the smell of blood out of her nose.

"Hey!" A voiced called out to from somewhere behind and she keep walking, then the voice repeated, much louder, "Hey!" She stopped and looked around, her face surely dripping with confusion. Amelia blushed at the young man calling her. He was only a meter or two away as he walked towards her. The young Native ran up to her when the distance came to a few short feet.

He was maybe a couple years older than her and wore a tan animal skin pants and had a feather laced into his long ebony black hair. The hair was tied loosely into a low braid and thrown over his broad shoulder. There were some drawings finger painted onto his chest depicting the long glasses that where common to the grasslands when the autumn came. But the thing that caught her gaze was the sharp gray of his almond shaped eyes.

Her eyes fell from his eyes to his naked chest again. Amelia would bet a week's meal that she was blushing from her toes, hidden in her boots, to the blonde roots on her head.

This wouldn't be the first time she's seen a shirtless man, but the surprise was apparent as her eyes stayed parallel to his chest. There was muscle there and on his arms from all the work he must do. She knew from all the lessons slapped into her mind by her governesses that she should look away, or else her reputation would be forever tarnished.

Pfft. _Yeah right_.

The thought flew over her head with startlingly ease. His skin color was a beautiful shade of caramel…. Then Amelia noticed his lips, full and just as sweet to her eyes. Her own lips twitched with a tingly feeling and she repressed the urge to cover them with a hand. But they started to twitch into a frown as she noticed the young man's lips were moving.

She looked up at his eyes sharply, mumbling out a gargled, "Urgh?"

He gave a small amused smile at that. "You are looking for Weeping Winds, right?" His voice had a smooth touch to it and Amelia barely remembered to nod. His tiny smile transformed to a sunny grin. "This way then." He turned his back to her and started off in between two tepees.

"Wait!" She yelled over the sudden loudness that erupted to her ears. It seemed that this was the point in the early morning that many of the tribe were at their task. As she tried keeping up with the man who came to get her, Amelia saw people doing all sorts of chores. They all burned together.

The small hint of breeze that she noticed earlier seemed stronger due to her running. It made her eyes water and squint to prevent further discomfortable.

Her eyes blinked out the annoying tears, when she noticed that many of the people out and about were looking at her. She hoped this wasn't going to be a regular thing.

But she didn't much time to think on it, because when her head turn to her front, she saw that the man who was leading her, stopping in front of a group of women.

"Ah! Nikita must you have her rush?" At the usually sweet voice turned sour, Amelia turned her head and spotted Windy getting up from her position from the group of women, who were in fact, weaving some sort of…. Thing. Amelia tried to be polite and try not to stare blankly at the large blanket… thing.

Her young escort only shouldered with a wicked grin that made her heart flutter. He was so handsome…

"Thank you for coming to see me One With The Land," Windy said in that humble voice that Amelia was just starting to get the hang of. Polite speech was not common to her if she could help. Polite speech meant rich folk, and that sort were the ones who manage to piss her off with every little thing.

"Yes yes, enough with the greeting child. Let the women talk now. Away Nikita." It was the elderly chief women from last night. She sat in the center of the women, back straight laced, and a shiny gleam of history embedded with her black eyes.

America would know. She's seen in it the faces of England, France, even Canada, and in the mirror.

But what was this old women's name…? Ah yes, Dream Listener. The name sounded appropriate to the women. Her black eyes it seemed that she could see into your very soul.

To Amelia's left, Nikita dipped his head, a respectful gesture that contrasted with the smile blooming on his full lips. There, again, Amelia felt her lips tinged, and a blush formed on the apples of her cheeks. Embarrassed by her body's display, Amelia turned away without another glance back at where this good-looking youth disappeared off to.

When Amelia finally focused her eyesight to the group, she found everyone staring at her. Did she have something on her face? Frowning, she lifted a hand to smear over the landscape of her face.

"Old One," Dream Listener on said, but at the different name, America blinked, "I am pleased that you have stayed the night with us. Have you had a good night's rest?" She nodded with an uneasy smile. It was odd having to be around such nice humans.

"Yes, thank you very much for giving me shelter." Amelia bowed at the waist towards the elder.

"Tell me Old One, have you fasted yet?"

Amelia swallowed dryly, suddenly aware of the grumble her stomach had decided on making. "Er- no, I mean to say that I haven't had the chance. I kinda just woke up and…" The words trailed off, leaving the sentence sounding awkward

"Then you will eat. Nikita?!" She called out to the passing tribesmen. "Where has that boy gone?" Her voice had a touch of annoyance. "My grandson is lazy and unfocused Old One. Please do not let his poor personality and actions reflect on us." Dream Listener said gravely.

Amelia heard a faint giggle to her right and only had a second to spot Windy's lips pressed together to keep the bell-like noise hidden away. Nikita strolled back into the area with a chunk of what looked like bread in hand and a decent proportion of it in his mouth. Now it was her turn to try not to laugh at the way his right cheek puffed out like a chipmunk's.

"Boy," Dream Listener called out to her grandson, "Take Old One to eat and behave yourself." That last bit held a warning tone attached to it. It sounded not unlike the one mothers would give naughty children. Yet Nikita smiled through it, looking like a fat faced scarecrow. Amelia really tried not to choke on the laugh hiding in her throat.

Nikita suddenly looked at her, causing the threat of laughter to be caught off abruptly. She felt her face flush under his gaze and she felt embarrassed cause of it, which only added to the red gathering in her cheeks. "This way One With The Land,"

Feeling completely clumsy with herself, Amelia followed the young man until they were out the council's sight. The only noise around the two was the background sounds of the tribesmen working.

Amelia felt even more awkward with the silence between them so… what the hell? "Uh… Nikita, your name right?" Smooth, "I- I um…." The words were just as clumsy as she was.

He looked back at her and grinned, a sharp K9 showing through, "Don't worry, it'll be my pleasure to help you out."

She didn't know what was more embarrassing; her horrible stutter that followed or the trickle of drool on the corner of her mouth.


End file.
